


Stiletto

by Lilbit903



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry, BAMF Hermione, F/M, Harmony pairing, Harry Becomes Lord Black, Harry Is not lord of everything, Harry is done with Ron's shit, Hiding Pain, Infidelity, Pureblood Politics, Ron Weasley Bashing, Stiletto Heels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2019-12-26 14:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18284249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilbit903/pseuds/Lilbit903
Summary: Hermione Granger is not going to let Ronald Weasley know that he hurt her. She refuses to let him get to her. So she's decided to wear her pain like a pair of sky-high stilettos; They may hurt like hell, but no one will ever know. Except for Harry Potter of course, and while he knows she can handle the pain on her own, he refuses to let her.





	1. Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> You can thank Kelsea Ballerini's Song Stiletto's for this story.  
> Playlist for this chapter is of course Stiletto's by Kelsea Ballerini, Irreplacable by Beyonce, and Big Girls Don't Cry by Fergie for Hermione's Part.  
> There's not really one for Harry's part, as it's more like he kinda took over when writing it.  
> Please be kind in the reviews. All mistakes are my own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been edited as of 4/15/19 and thanks to my Lovely amazing Alpha/Beta Vino Amore for her help as always.

Hermione stared coldly at her soon to be ex-fiance as he lay asleep in their bed. The one she had spent days agonizing over before finally settling on a large king size four poster that took up the majority of the bedroom. There were so many hopes and dreams associated with their bed. It was the bed where they made love, the sacred place where one day they should have consummated their marriage, where their children should have been conceived, it should have been a safe place for their children when they had a bad dream and wanted to be comforted.  
So to get home in the early morning hours from an overnight business trip to find her fiance asleep next to a blonde haired witch, made her want to set the bed alight with them in it. Her fingers itched for her wand as she seriously contemplated the thought of doing just that. Hot tears swelled in her eyes, and she swallowed bitterly trying to hold them back from falling unsuccessfully. Anger mingled with hurt as it pooled in her stomach. She hated Ronald Weasley in that moment more than she had ever hated anyone, more than Umbridge, Voldemort, and even more than Bellatrix Lestrange. They had at least been honest in their motives, but this type of betrayal was unforgivable. 

Wiping away her tears and squaring her shoulders, she turned her back on the scene and set to work with her wand, quickly and efficiently packing all of her things. He could keep their flat, she had no interest in staying where he had shagged who knew how many women while she was gone. She was precise in her motions, eliminating herself from the pictures of them together on the walls, sending her clothes and books to pack themselves neatly in her trunks. Flicking her wand towards her knick knacks she shrunk them and directed them towards the trunk as well. Finally when all of her belongings were packed she turned towards the blood boiling scene in the bed. 

Snarling she shot out two quick stinging hexes, both aimed directly at Ronald.  
He jolted awake with a yelp and reached for his wand quickly aiming it at her. She watched in grim satisfaction as all of the blood left his face, making his freckles stand out starkly against the pale skin. 

“Hermione, I- it’s not what it looks like!” He said as he moved to stand from the bed, but apparently thought better of it when he remembered he was nude beneath the sheets.  
“She meant nothing. It was a one time-” he yelped as she hit him with yet another stinging hex. 

“Nothing you have to say will make this any better,” She crossed her arms and glared at the witch who was waking up beside him,”You slept with another woman in our bed while I was away on business. I would usually find this unnecessary to state, but given your obvious lack of mental capacity, I feel as though I must; the engagement is off, and we are no longer a couple.” Hermione was proud of the fact that her voice didn’t waver. She wanted this to be as cold as possible. He was not allowed to know just how badly this fucking hurt. 

“Hermione, please. I’m so, so sorry.” Ron began, his hands moved to reach for her before he utilized what few brain cells he had left and tucked the sheet more firmly around his waist. Unfortunately for him, this left the blonde’s breasts on display, and with a shriek she ripped the sheet from him to cover herself up with enough momentum to fully uncover Ron.  
Raising an eyebrow Hermione simply removed the engagement ring from her finger and flicked it at him. 

“You can keep the flat. We’re done here Ronald.” She told him, turning away to apparate from the apartment, thankful the wards would allow her to do so. 

Closing her eyes as she felt herself be squeezed through the tube of apparation, Hermione focused on her best friends home. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind a house guest for a few days.

 

When Hermione landed on the front stoop of Grimmauld Place, she swallowed down the tears threatening to spill. She wouldn’t allow anyone to see the hurt.. Later, in the darkness of a bed with the covers pulled over her and a silencing spell she would fall apart. But not now. Now she had to ask her best friend to let her stay at his home for an as of yet determined amount of time. 

Honestly, she felt foolish for even being here. He wasn’t just her best friend, he was Ron’s too, and although she dearly wanted to, she couldn’t make him choose sides. He had shown her before who he would choose. Perhaps this wasn’t such a good idea after all, surely she could get a room at the Leaky Cauldron until she could find herself a suitable flat. 

Just as she was about to apparate away, the door opened and Harry Potter appeared before her, looking as dashing as ever. She was sad to say it had been far too long since she had seen him last. Future wedding plans that were all now moot, and work had kept her busy, and aside from a very brief lunch she hadn’t seen him in months. 

“Hermione? What are you doing here?” He asked, stepping back to open the door wider for her, “Come in. Let me get a look at you.” 

Hermione smiled wanly at him, hoping she could keep up the facade just a little longer. She just needed to stay strong long enough to excuse herself for a midday nap, and there she could let the pieces of her broken heart hit the ground and shatter. She would pick up the pieces later.  
“Hello, Harry. I hate to intrude, but would you mind terribly if I stayed with you for a few days?” she brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes avoiding his gaze.  
Harry let his eyes travel over her features, noticing the slightly red and swollen eyes and the tell-tale tear stains marking her cheeks and felt his heart clench at the pain his friend was so obviously in. He knew better than to ask about them though, for all of Hermione’s nuances her pride was her biggest flaw at times. No need to kick a hornet’s nest, lest he be the one to feel the brunt of her anger.  
“Ronald and I are no longer together, and I opted to let him keep the flat.” Hermione told him, fingers trembling slightly as she moved to cross her arms, before settling them at her sides again. Her voice quavered as she spoke, but thankfully Harry didn’t mention or ask about it. 

Harry looked startled at the revelation, “Of course you can stay. Whatever you need Hermione-” Harry moved to hug her wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest, “-You’ll always be welcome here. Why don’t you go on ahead and get settled in. I have some business to run on Diagon Alley, with Gringotts, but I should be back in time for lunch.”  
Hermione let out a sigh in relief, leave it to Harry to know exactly what she needed. Pulling away, she nodded, “Thank you, Harry. You don’t realize how much I appreciate this.”  
Harry smiled fondly at her, “Anytime, Hermione.”

He watched her ascend the stairs quietly, while questions began to form in his mind. What had caused the split between Ron and Hermione? They had been together nearing three years, and engaged for the last three months. Something was definitely wrong, and Harry was determined to find out what. Hermione was too logical to flee to his home without a good reason, and Ron was too stubborn to let her. Add in Hermione’s distressed state when she arrived and he felt as if he owed it to her to try and fix things if he could.  
Deciding that his business with the Goblins could wait, he apparated to what was now Ron’s flat. 

Upon entering the space, the first thing he noticed was the distinct lack of Hermione. She wasn’t in any of the pictures any longer. Her books were not cluttering up the coffee table and shelves and every flat surface in the home. Her glass figurines of ballerinas were no longer perched delicately along the walls next to Ron’s Chudley Cannons memorabilia. It felt empty, and cold without Hermione’s presence. 

Shaking off the strange feeling he called out, “Ron, you here mate?” as he walked towards the bedroom. As soon as he opened the door, he wished he hadn’t. Ron was sprawled out asleep, naked as the day he was born. Worried that his friend may have been stunned by Hermione in a fit of anger, he cast Ennervate at him. 

Ron immediately covered himself upon noticing Harry in the room.  
“Harry, blimey! What happened? All I remember is Hermione came home and saw me with Sally, and then she threw the ring at me after hexing me and left. And then Sally got all upset because I didn’t tell her about Hermione, and stunned me. And my life is now a bloody wreck.” 

It took Harry all of five seconds to fully comprehend what Ron had admitted to. He had cheated on Hermione in her own home and bed. Rational thought fled, and before Harry could fully comprehend his actions he found himself straddling Ron, with one hand around his throat and the other punching Ron repeatedly in the face. 

“How. Bloody. Dare. You.” Each word was accentuated with another hit to the face, and only when Harry finally heard the crunching of cartilage and saw the river of red cascade from the now broken appendage did Harry cease his assault.  
“You’re a bloody fucking prick Ron! Hermione did everything for you and this, this is how you repay her-” Harry scoffed, the sound mixed with harsh sobbing coming from the now battered Ron, “-well you can just stay the fuck away from both of us from now on. You’ve proven your disloyalty for the last time.”  
Harry glared at Ron, raised his wand and sent a mild blasting curse at the frame of the bed. He knew how much it meant to Hermione and he would not allow Ron to get another moment of enjoyment from it. Satisfied when the bed frame cracked and fell to pieces with Ron still laying atop it, he left the flat for Diagon Alley.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has not been offically approved by my Beta as she is currently working on a project herself. But seriously, go read her works, she's amazing. She's on here as Vino Amore  
> Chapter music for this is a mix of Miss Me More by Kelsea Ballerini and Torn by Natalie Imbruglia. There is also a building playlist on Youtube for this story if you want to see what kind of music I listen to to get me in the zone for writing this story. It's called Stiletto Harmony Playlist.  
> Reviews are always welcome, even if it's just to tell me something you like, hate or whatever. Abuse however is not.

Hermione sat alone in her room at Grimmauld Place. Curled up against the headboard of her bed, she stared blankly at the opposite wall. Swirling patterns were beginning to form the longer she stared, and they were a good enough distraction from the pain quietly ripping it’s way through her heart. She was trying desperately not to think. Not to feel, but it was of no use. Thoughts of ‘why wasn’t I enough?’ bounced through her head and she hated the way that made her feel. 

It reminded her of being at Hogwarts during her first few months, when everyone simply thought she was a bushy haired know-it-all and everyone seemed to believe she didn’t belong. It brought back memories of being overlooked for her blood status, and of people’s ridiculous anger simply because she was intelligent. It brought back feelings of being inadequate and she hated Ron just a little more for that. 

As she sat, she felt herself growing angry. Nearly three years of her life completely wasted, and for what? For a boy who would never grow up? Who thought it was her responsibility to care for him, as if he were some entitled child. A boy who got angry and jealous at even the slightest hint that she paid attention to anyone who wasn’t him, male or female. She hadn’t seen Harry in months because she allowed herself to be fooled by Ron and his supposed concerns that they needed to work on their relationship more to have a successful marriage.

Now it was all too clear just what Ron had been working on, and it most certainly was not their relationship. She felt ashamed at how much she had let Ron control her life in the month's since they had become engaged. She had stopped seeing her friends and co-workers during lunch breaks, because Ron had wanted to spend them with her. 

She'd stopped wearing her favorite high heeled shoes, because Ron didn't want her to be near his height or taller, saying it made him feel emasculated. She'd even stopped wearing her favorite shade of red lipstick because his mother had made the comment that it made her look like a trollop. 

She never played her favorite muggle bands in their flat either, tired of the argument that because she was a witch she should completely abandon the muggle world. As if everything she grew up with was inferior to the Magical world, or that because Ron said so it shouldn't hold as much importance in her life any longer. How could she have been so incredibly stupid? 

Tears of frustration were mingling with her tears of pain now, and she hated it. She hated that he made her feel weak and inferior even when he wasn't here to do so. She was a capable, valuable woman dammit! And she was absolutely not going to allow her self-worth to be in the hands of a man child who refused to grow up. 

Frowning, she pulled herself off the bed and enlarged her trunk. Opening it she began looking for a few of her favorite items. There, underneath her clothes was a muggle styled record player, the only way she could listen to muggle music. Smiling to herself she pulled it out along with a few vinyl records. Flipping through them she allowed herself a little laugh when she found the album her mother had gifted her one year with Natalie Imbruglia printed across the front. 

Placing it on the player she set the needle in place, and cranked the volume up to ten. The slightly upbeat strands of music drifted through the air, and Hermione made her way back to the bed. Grabbing a pillow she allowed herself to curl into it, and just let the tears fall. The lyrics perfectly imbued how she felt at the moment. She was torn, her emotions were shredding up her heart. She wanted so badly to be angry at Ron, but part of her felt as if it were her own fault. 

She knew who he was when she agreed to start a relationship with him. She knew he could be angry, and stubborn and sometimes a little selfish and insecure. But there were also times when he could be funny and sweet. And she let her childhood nostalgia effect those slightly romantic feelings she had for him. After all, it was to be expected as far as everyone could tell. Harry would marry Ginny and she would marry Ron and they’d all be one big happy family. What a joke. 

She should have known when Harry and Ginny didn’t work out that perhaps they weren’t meant to live up to others expectations. But she was stubborn and prideful and refused to give up at that point. She was in love, and people compromised for those they loved, right? At least that’s what she told herself. That’s why she allowed herself to be drawn further and further into a relationship, into a life, with a man who was exactly as he’d always been. A disloyal child.

Letting exhaustion finally overtake her, she laid on her side, still clutching the pillow and drifted to sleep. Maybe things wouldn’t look quite so bleak in the fresh light of the afternoon. 

Meanwhile Harry arrived at Gringotts five minutes before his appointment time, and his knuckles were still throbbing. Frowning down at his hand he debated casting a numbing charm, before deciding it wasn't worth risking his writing hand being useless during this meeting and angering the Goblins. He really didn’t need the reminder of Ron’s betrayal though, so he spelled away the blood and hoped that the Goblin’s wouldn’t have him sign too much today. They had been less volatile with him in the past year, although he still got glares from the guards occasionally. 

Signing his name into the appointment book that was kept near the doors, Harry settled himself in to wait. Goblins were finicky creatures, you had to be early, but they were allowed to be as late as they pleased. All of which depended on their mood for the day. Hopefully his account manager wasn't too irritated with him today. 

Surprisingly Harry barely had time to attempt getting comfortable in the hard wooden chair before his name was called. 

“Good to see you again Steeltooth.” Harry greeted his account manager, who had two rows of shiny steel plated teeth. The Goblin liked to brag they had to be replaced after a fight with a dragon, in which he had lost all of his teeth, but the dragon had lost his life. 

“You as well, Mr. Potter. This way, if you will. We have a lot to do, and little time to dawdle with idle chit chat.” Steeltooth called as he began walking away before he had even finished a sentence. 

Harry suppressed a chuckle at his behavior, Goblins were always trying to find ways to prove their superiority to Wizards, without descending into another rebellion. So making wizard's race after them, along with cutting quips seemed to be their favorite past time. Harry shook his head slightly as he lengthened his strides in order to keep up with Steeltooth. Upon entering the goblin's office, Harry waited for Steeltooth to be seated before he sat himself in front of the large quartz topped desk. 

“Mr. Potter, as you know Magicals reach their Majority at the age of twenty-one. At this age, they are able to claim domain of any Lordships, Titles, Properties and accounts that they may be entitled to. As the last remaining Potter, you would normally claim any titles at this point in time,. however there are no longer any functioning Title’s pertaining to your line due to your father being unable to claim his title. Thankfully you still stand to inherit a large Manor Home known as Castle Rising as well as all patents, accounts, artifacts, and monies in your name.” Steeltooth grimaced, and shuffled the papers before him, without looking up. 

“It also appears you have a slew of Betrothal Contracts that you may peruse at your own discretion. If you choose to agree to a Betrothal contract you will be asked to come in for testing to assure you are free of compulsions and potions, as per your request since the summer of 1999.” Steeltooth glanced up and Harry nodded his understanding. After catching Ginny attempting to potion his food at the Burrow, Harry had called their relationship off, moved back in to Grimmauld Place and set up stringent precautions at Gringotts. 

“Now, on to other matters. Sirius Orion Black was your Godfather and the last surviving Heir of the Ancient and Noble house of Black. He never got the chance to formally claim his Title in the Wizengamot, however he left it to you in the unfortunate event of his untimely death. This, therefore makes you Heir Apparent to the House of Black. If you choose to accept this Title, you will have to merge it with the Potter Magic, thus putting an end to the House of Black as the House of Potter will absorb it, as per the British Protocols of Seventeen Twenty Six.

However, be warned that one Draco Lucius Malfoy has a maternal claim to the Title, and may choose to contest your claim. If Mr. Malfoy chooses this path, then both of you will attempt the claiming ritual, and the Magic of House Black will decide who is worthy to continue it’s legacy, dark and brutal as it is.” More papers were shuffled and Steeltooth, handed over a thick folder.

Harry took a moment to flip through the portfolio, noticing several property listings as well as what looked like stock certificates. Steeltooth rapped his knuckles against his desk to gain Harry’s attention again. 

“Seeing as how you are incredibly lucky to have any money left after the war, I would highly suggest reinvigorating your stock portfolio. You can do so through the bank or hire private investors. This is of course your choice, but I would like to remind you how much Gringotts appreciates your patronage.” Steel teeth glinted in a farce of a smile, and Harry had to admit to himself that it was a rather intimidating sight. 

“I think I’ll continue with the bank, Steeltooth.” Harry nodded, crossing his legs as he leaned back in his seat. “And could you elaborate on the whole lucky to have any money part? As far as I knew I had a vault strictly for my school supplies and nothing else was to be touched.” 

Steeltooth grunted, pressed a button on his desk and stood from his desk to walk towards one of the office windows. Harry watched momentarily confused, as this was unusual behavior for a Goblin. He’d never seen one leave their desk until the meeting was through. A sharp knock on the door was answered by an even sharper, “Enter.” and Harry felt his confusion rise. 

“Fromvix, please sit.” Steeltooth growled at the slightly smaller goblin, the sound reverberating through the room. 

Fromvix’s eyes darted around the room, before settling upon Harry, where he cautiously made his way over before settling in the extra chair provided.  
“Steeltooth, what’s this about?” The goblin’s voice was unlike any other Harry had heard, high pitched and nearly squealing as it spoke, “I’m very, very busy. Lots to do. Lots to do.” 

Steeltooth turned with a snarl and crossed the room in several quick strides, a silver dagger in his hand. Harry watched, slightly in awe as Steeltooth pressed the blade against Fromvix’s saggy throat and spoke in a snarled and garbled way that was nearly impossible to understand. One thing was clear though.

“You stole from me!” Steeltooth shouted, spittle landing on Fromvix’s face. Harry tried not to feel pity for the smaller goblin based on the way he cowered from the blade. 

“Truly, I had no idea, I was lead to believe the boy agreed.” Fromvix stuttered raising his hands up placatingly, “I’d never steal from a child. It is abhorrent.” 

Steeltooth stood and slammed the blade into his desk, “Let this be a warning to you, Fromvix, if I discover you’ve lied to me today, the next time I plunge that blade into something, it’ll be your heart. Now leave.” He waited until Fromvix was almost to the door to add, “Oh, and Fromvix, I expect every single Galleon, Sickle and Knut to be returned to my client, with interest.” 

Harry waited for Steeltooth to seat himself again before asking, “What happened to my money, Steeltooth?” 

Steeltooth frowned, steepled his fingers and braced them under his chin. “Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix.” 

It seemed Harry was in for more than one Betrayal today.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as a special Birthday Present to myself I decided to post Chapter 3. 
> 
> Inspiration for Hermione's parents are Mama's Broken Heart by Miranda Lambert and I Hope You Dance by Lee Ann Womack Respectively.  
> I do not have my Alpha/Beta's stamp of approval, but I'm hoping she'll forgive me anyways. Therefore any and all mistakes are my own.  
> As always reviews are welcome but abuse is not.

Hermione awoke later to sore and slightly crusty eyes, a product of crying in her sleep. Sitting up, she cast a quick tempus and noted it was after two in the afternoon. She had missed breakfast and lunch, but figured it wasn’t too late for an afternoon tea break. Making her way to the bathroom she decided to clean up before making her way downstairs. After showering she felt marginally better, and she was happy to note that you could barely tell she had spent most of the morning crying into her pillow.

Gah, she felt like such a stereotypical girl. Find out the man she thought she was going to spend the rest of her life with was a cheating arse and she breaks into a pile of tears. There were people in the world with worse problems than hers. She could almost hear her mother telling her to suck it up, that the world didn’t care for a little heartbreak when it had much bigger problems to deal with. What else was she to expect from the renowned maxillofacial surgeon Elizabeth Walsh-Granger? The woman spared all of her compassion for her patients, and left very little for her family.

But her father, well he always differed from her mother when it came to feelings of the heart. He would tell her that it was okay to cry. It was okay to be hurt and angry and disappointed, but to not let her experience with Ron to turn her bitter. Arlo Granger would have taken his daughter in a hug and let her cry until she couldn’t cry anymore. Then he would have wiped away her tears, kissed her forehead and told her to never let anyone else determine her happiness. It was what he had done when she was a small girl, and came home crying because of bullies in primary school.

She missed them both dearly, but after restoring their memories both had opted to stay in Australia, as her mother had found a new purpose with the Aboriginal tribes that resided there. They were happy, and as much as it pained her to leave them, she did. Life moved on and Hermione knew that better than most. Even now, her life would have to move on without Ron. She could not, and would not allow herself anymore time to wallow in her feelings. At least not today.

So drying her face she made her way to the kitchen, hoping to dig up some biscuits and a strong tea and maybe a small sandwich. Then if Harry hadn’t yet returned she could retreat to the library and lose herself in a good book. She wasn’t exactly looking forward to explaining all of what had happened to her best friend, she didn’t want to be the wedge between him and Ron. And she knew this would add strain to their relationship. Not that there was much of a relationship there nowadays anyways. After Harry had called it quits with Ginny the entire Weasley family seemed to distance themselves from him. All except for George, who quite honestly distanced himself from everyone.

Hermione had just set the kettle on to boil when Harry walked through the front door. His mind was spinning with all of the information he had learned. Dumbledore had stolen nearly one-hundred and forty thousand galleons from him in a claim that it was for the Order of the Phoenix and war efforts. But the theft had started in 1982 and lasted up to his death in 1997. And while he was by no means destitute, having nearly forty thousand galleons in his account, the theft still bothered him. He wondered what had happened to the money, and whether or not Dumbledore had used it for himself or given it away as a way of helping the “Greater Good”. And truthfully he didn’t think his fifteen year old self would have thought twice about donating money to the Order of the Phoenix, so why had Dumbledore not asked him? Pride? Or something more sinister.

Walking into the kitchen he nearly bumped right in to Hermione, and caused her to stumble. Seeker reflexes reacted and he reached out to steady her by her elbows. Her hands landed between them on his chest and Harry tried to ignore how the warmth seemed to seep bone deep into him. Hermione had always done that for him. Brought him warmth in a way that no other could. When he was younger he had asked a few of his fellow housemates about it without mentioning her name, and Dean had been the only one to answer. He had told him it sounded like what he felt when his sisters hugged him. Like home.

Perhaps that was true, that Hermione would always be home to him, but he doubted his feelings towards her were quite as sisterly as he once believed. Afterall, people didn’t have wet dreams about their siblings. Pulling himself from his thoughts he smiled down at her, appreciating the slight blush that covered her cheeks.

“Alright there? I nearly forgot you would be staying with me.” Harry grinned, regretfully moving is hands from her. This seemed to be the cue she was waiting for because she quickly removed her hands from his chest.

“Yes, yes. I’m fine, just fine. And if I intrude at all or if you need more space, or want me to leave-” Hermione began to babble.

“Enough of that. I told you that you were welcome here as long as you liked and I meant it. You’ll always have a home here with me, Hermione.” He told her, trying to keep his tone light amongst such serious words. It was the least he could do for the girl he was half sure he could easily fall in love with. The other half was too bloody terrified to muck up their friendship.

Hermione offered Harry a tight smile and made her way to the cooling cupboard and began pulling out items for sandwiches. “I hope you’re hungry,” She called over her shoulder. “I might be a terrible cook, but I can at least make a decent sandwich.”

“That’s alright Hermione, you don’t have to go through any extra trouble for me.”

“Of course I do. I did after all just drop by your doorstep in before the sun had fully risen this morning. Making you a sandwich is the least I can do.” She told him as she began to assemble said sandwiches at the counter.

Harry watched her with a fond smile, surprised by just how normal this felt, aside from the obvious tension that seemed to emanate from Hermione like a dark cloud. Biting the bullet so to speak Harry cleared his throat.

“I- uh I saw Ron. Earlier, before I went to the bank I mean.” Harry told her, watching the way her shoulders tensed at their former friends name.

A non committal hum was all the verbal response his statement garnered though.

“I may have broken his nose.” He told her, reaching up to scratch his chin awkwardly. That, gathered a surprised gasp and a quick turn around. Harry nearly laughed at her wide eyes and open mouth, but kept the chuckles to himself.

“Harry!” She sounded scandalized, but there was a hint of laughter to her tone as well, “You did not!”

“I did indeed. And I broke the bed.” He grinned at the way her face brightened, “Hit it with a blasting hex with him on it.” Before he knew it he had an armful of a sobbing Hermione Granger. He rubbed soothing circles along her back, and simply held her, knowing that for all her strength and determination she still wasn’t sure people would stand with her.

Harry felt as if that was partly his fault. How many times had he forgiven Ron before, or allowed his treatment of one of his best friends without even blinking. To be quite honest he had been a shite friend to Hermione over the years, but it didn’t matter now. Now he was going to be her rock through this difficult time in her life, whether she liked it or not.

“Thank you Harry.” She murmured into his chest quietly, before pulling away and wiping her cheeks, “Now, how about those sandwiches?”

Harry smiled, “Sandwiches sound lovely.”

 

The following days passed quickly, Hermione and Harry settling into a mundane routine. Hermione would spend her days in the library reading, while trying to avoid all mention of Ron. And Harry would often join her, a book of his own in his lap as he took careful notes.

Hermione had learned that since the months they had been apart, Harry had enlisted into the Officer’s academy for the Auror Corps. It was a six month course, and most who entered flunked out within the first six weeks. It tested not only a cadets physical training but mental and emotional as well. Officers were held to a higher standard than regular Aurors and Harry was determined to succeed.

When Hermione had asked what had made him so determined to become an Officer, he revealed that he had found his father’s journal and that before the prophecy was revealed he had plans to become an Officer as well. Her response had left him shaken.

“Harry, for all you look like him, you are not your father, and you don’t have to be.”

Those words had haunted his dreams the past few days. But after a deeper reflection he felt as if he wasn’t trying to be his father. Because while he wanted to make his parent’s proud, he knew he wanted to go farther than just being an Officer. It might seem a little outlandish, but one day he hoped to be the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He wanted to make a true change in the Wizarding world, and he hoped that he could do so.

But with the looming decision to be made about the House of Black and the House of Potter, he wasn’t quite sure that was the right way to go anymore. He knew the Wizengamot made, and voted on laws, as well as voted on repealing them. And with the title of Lord Black, which would be absorbed to make him Lord Potter, he could have a say in those votes. He could definitely use his still popular fame as The Boy-Who-Lived and the Chosen One and all the other epithets he had been given to sway those around him to vote with him.

And who said that if he did take up the mantle of a Lord that he would have to give up his dream of being director of the DMLE? Perhaps Hermione would know, as her work within the Department of Mysteries had her linked closer to the inner workings of the Laws of the Land than him. Were it not for her, the entirety of the Wizarding populace could be suffering under the effects of an Ancient Marriage Law. Thankfully she and a team of researchers had stopped it before it could fall into effect.

Hermione herself startled him out of his thoughts when she came barreling into the room with a copy of The Daily Prophet clutched in her grip. Her hair was throwing off visible sparks and her aura was a shining red. Were that not enough to tell him just how angry she was, her mumbled rantings would give it away.

"I should have murdered him when I had the chance! That lying, scheming, no good, low down, son of a twisted cunt!" She shouted before slamming the papers down on the kitchen table with a huff.

Harry lifted his tea to avoid it splattering everywhere and set a glance down at the offending article.

**War Heroine Changes Mind? Calls Off Engagement For First Love? by Marietta Edgecombe**

_War Heroine Hermione Granger has shocked the Wizarding world by calling off her engagement to one-third of the previously known Golden Trio, Ronald Weasley, just_   _after three short months of saying yes. Sources close to the couple claim that Hermione had gotten cold feet, while another stated that Hermione had always only settled for poor Ronald. So where did her love truly lie? Why with none other than the Boy-Who-Lived himself! Confidential Sources claim that Miss Granger had scarcely waited a day before shacking up with Mr. Potter. And while neither of them are currently available for comment, one has to wonder just what the two may be up to. Could they possibly be planning a secret wedding themselves? When I find out, you'll be the first to know dear readers._

Harry looked up at Hermione and sighed, "Well, we know that's a load of tripe Hermione. We both know that I'm not your first love," He met her eyes and let a smile slip out, " that honor belongs to books."

Hermione threw up her arms in agitation, "Be serious Harry! Ron is likely the source, and I've half a mind to go set him aflame like I should have when I caught him with bloody Sally-Anne Perks!" She snapped, her wand appearing in her hand, as she marched towards the Floo.

Harry rushed up to stop her, "Now now, enough of that Hermione. I love you, but we both know you wouldn't survive Azkaban, They're not likely to let you bring your library, and we both know just how much you hate stripes." Placing an arm around her shoulder's he gently led her to sit down at the table.

Sighing she put her head down on the table, "What am I going to do Harry? He's going to let them drag me through the mud to make himself look better. And I can't stand it!" She groaned.

Harry watched her closely, noting the dejected slump of her shoulders, and how without her magic racing through them her curls seemed limp and lifeless. Ron had truly done a number on her.  
"Well. There's only one thing to do then, isn't there? You get even."

Hermione raised her head up and met his gaze, and ever so slowly the Devil's own smile spread across her lips. "Ronald's just picked a fight with the wrong damn witch, Harry."  
Harry swallowed tightly at the sight, telling himself it wasn't appropriate to be turned on by his best friend's viciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione decided that the first part of her ten step plan to getting over Ronald Weasley, was a whole new look. After going through her wardrobe, she was a bit depressed to realize that none of her clothes would look out of place on a school marm. Or a nun. Which was fine, she supposed, if she were several decades older but Hermione was a Witch in her prime. Only twenty-one and she felt as if she deserved to look like it. So she had boxed all of the clothes up, shrunk them down and sent them to Madam Malkins to place in her donation clothes. 

Then in a fit of whimsy she had made her way to Gladrags, and picked an entire new wardrobe. Robes for every occasion, muggle clothes such as jeans and blouses, new knickers, and finally new shoes. Two pair of which Hermione had gotten despite the fact that she would have absolutely no practical reason to wear. One a bright red pair of peep toe stiletto heels and the other a pair of classic black stilettos with a red bottom and an adorned heel. 

After though, she found herself staring moodily at her hair. It had calmed slightly, but she had been neglecting it. Leading to it frizzing out several inches from her head. Honestly it made her look like a lion. So with some trepidation she made her way into Pedrus Pridgeon’s Hairdressing Salon. Nervously she approached the desk and asked for an appointment, only to have the owner himself sweep out from the curtained off area upon hearing her name. 

“Miss Granger! Oh, what a surprise! What a delight! No need to make an appointment my dear, I’ll see you now.” Pedrus told her, sweeping an arm about her shoulder and leading her behind the curtain. It looked nothing like any hair salon she’d ever seen before. Of course there were chairs, but there were no scissors, hairstyling implements, or basins for shampooing. Several other witches and wizards were working on their clients, and Hermione raised her chin knowing they had likely seen the Prophet this morning as well. 

Ignoring the hushed whispers she let herself be guided to a chair, where Pedrus asked her a multitude of questions. Deciding she wanted to keep her curls, simply tame them a bit without having to use several bottles of Sleakeazy’s every day. She also chose to cut quite a bit of her hair off based on Pedrus’ recommendation. Lightening the color as well, Hermione felt like a brand new witch when she left the salon. 

Arriving back at Grimmauld Place Hermione placed her purchases in her room, before deciding to change into a new pair of high waisted cut-off shorts and a fitting halter top. Just for kicks she slipped into her new red high heels. She looked good, she decided, eyeing herself in the mirror. But even as she took in her new look, she felt the aching pain of heartbreak in her chest. Ron’s betrayal still stung, and the article this morning had only emphasized it. 

Marietta Edgecombe didn’t realize it, but she would soon be facing an inquiry at work due to the fact that she hadn’t attempted to reach Hermione or Harry. In exchange, Hermione had agreed to an exclusive interview with Ernie MacMillan. If Ronald wanted to try and run her name through the muck, well he had another think coming. She’d lay it all out there. How he’d quit his job as an auror and expected her to pay for everything. How he’d rather play in his brother’s joke shop under the guise of working, when in reality he was costing George more money than he was worth by snatching candies every chance he got. Things she had ignored, figuring if George had a problem with it then of course he would address the issue with Ron. Now she wondered if George knew at all. Not that it mattered anyways, because he and everyone else would by the end of next week. 

Making her way to the kitchen, she smiled to see Harry sitting at the table reading a letter. She maneuvered quietly around him, not wishing to disturb him. Setting about making a pot of tea for them to share, she nearly dropped the ceramic kettle when Harry let out a loud curse. 

“How fucking dare that old codger!” Harry shouted, crinkling the letter into a ball in his fist. Anger causing him to lose temporary control of his magic. 

Hermione turned towards him wide eyed. Harry’s aura was flaring and she could almost feel the golden sparks he was emitting in his anger. Setting the kettle on the bench, she made her way to him cautiously. He’d never hurt her before, but she’d also never seen him in this state, and she knew he’d feel incredibly guilty if he did.

“Harry, what’s the matter?” She asked, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

Harry’s eyes met hers, and he calmed drastically. “Dumbledore. Bloody Albus Fucking Dumbledore. Every month for sixteen years, he deposited seven-hundred and thirty galleons to the Dursley’s right up until his death. Paying them for taking care of me out of my own money. Nevermind that the amount is ludicrous to the care of a toddler, but I never saw any benefit from it! It all went to Dudley.” 

Hermione did the math quickly, realizing quickly that the Dursley’s had garnered over a hundred and forty thousand galleons from Harry without him realizing it. In muggle money that was close to six hundred and ninety eight thousand pounds. And if they weren’t spending it all on Harry, then what were they spending it on? 

“Oh, Harry. That’s awful. What are the Goblins doing about it?” She asked worriedly, knowing what Harry had told her of the Dursley’s she doubted very much if any of it was left. 

“That’s just the thing,” Harry sat with a sigh, “There’s not much they can do. It was all converted into muggle pounds. So while they’re charging Dumbledore’s account posthumously, not that it’ll do much good after Voldemort’s ministry nearly wiped him out, and going after the Goblin that helped him, that’s about the limit they can do. Steeltooth is furious and wants to bring in a necromancer just so he can have the pleasure of killing Dumbledore himself.” 

Hermione couldn’t help the snort of laughter at that. After the war, when Harry had told both her and Ron of all the plans Dumbledore had come up with, she’d wanted to bring him back a few times just to practice the Avada curse. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny. I know that, but I’m picturing an angry goblin lobing off Dumbledore’s head with a sword. And well, I can’t help but think he kind of deserves it.”

Harry laughed as well. “More than kind of at this point.” 

When Hermione laughed more heartily, he allowed himself to take a better look at her. She’d changed her hair. While not as sleek as at the Yule Ball, it was no longer bushy. It was also a different shade, reminding him of a pan of dark caramel. But her outfit itself nearly did him in. 

A bright red halter top, clung to her curves emphasizing that Hermione Granger had grown up, and had grown up good. That let to a pair of denim cut offs that he was sure were known as Daisy Dukes across the pond. And if that wasn’t enough all of that expanse of leg was highlighted by a pair of bright red shoes that made her legs look even longer. For a brief moment he pictured those legs wrapped around his waist as he kissed her up against the wall. 

“Were you going somewhere?” He asked clearing his throat. He shook the image from his mind. Now was not the time. She’d just gotten out of a relationship in an admittedly painful way. 

“Hm? Oh, no. I just went shopping and decided to try on one of my new outfits.” She told him, making her way back to the kettle. 

Harry bit his lip to suppress the groan that tried to escape. As good as she looked from the front, her arse looked even better. Especially with half of her back exposed. 

“Are you alright, Harry?” Hermione asked, glancing at him over her shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah of course. Say, how about you and I go out tonight? Have some fun to take our minds off all of this that’s been going on?” He proposed crossing his legs to hide his growing erection. The woman was going to be the death of him. Voldemort couldn’t kill him, but Hermione Granger in those shorts was going to. 

“I’m not sure Harry. Do you think that’s wise? You know the paper will have a field day if they see us together.” She worried nervously chewing her lip. 

“Oh bollocks to them. Who cares what they say. We know the truth, and that’s all that matters.” He told her, making his way across the kitchen. “Please, Hermione? Let’s go have fun for once.” 

Hermione tried not to blush at just how close Harry had gotten. And when had he gotten so much taller than her that in four-inch heels she just barely met his chin with her eyes. She ignored the trail of heat that flashed down her spine when Harry placed his hands on her shoulders. He was her best friend, nothing more. And she couldn’t risk jeopardizing that, no matter how tempting it might be. 

“Oh, alright.” She told him smiling, feeling as if the wind had been knocked from her lungs when he smiled back. 

“Great. Just let me change and we’ll be off.” He told her, “You stay right where you are. You look perfect.” 

Hermione watched him go with a bit of trepidation, there was absolutely no way she could allow herself to be attracted to her best friend. Especially not this close to a breakup. Perhaps she should try dating, if for no other reason than to make sure she wasn’t accidentally using Harry as a rebound crutch. She’d think on it, but for now, she was simply going to go out and have fun with her best friend. 

Arriving at the small wizarding nightclub together was admittedly a bad idea. Photographers from various wizarding magazines and papers swarmed around them, and camera flashes went off repeatedly, blinding them with their brightness. Before any of the reporters could ask questions though, Harry and Hermione were pulled into the club. Harry felt his jaw drop at seeing who had pulled them through the door. Draco Malfoy still had his hand on Hermione’s elbow and part of Harry wanted to rip the offending appendage off. 

“Malfoy, you can release me now.” Hermione snapped, although her tone was still cordial. 

“Of course, Granger. Wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities.” Malfoy sneered, dropping his hand quickly. 

Hermione’s lips quirked up in a smile before both of them shared a quiet chuckle. Harry felt rather jealous of that. Since when did Hermione laugh with the likes of Malfoy? And since when had they become familiar with one another? Malfoy nodded stoically in his direction. 

“Potter.” 

“Malfoy.” Harry returned. 

“Granger, before you go in there, I should warn you, Weasley’s here. And he’s drunker than I’ve ever seen him.” Malfoy told her, causing the witch to swallow thickly. Ready or not, she’d have to face Ronald. She would not be a coward and run away, no matter how much she may like to.

Smiling tightly she nodded at Malfoy, “Thank you, Draco. But I can handle him.” The ‘I hope’ hung unsaid in the air. Turning she linked arms with Harry and practically dragged him into the dimly lit club.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this took a little longer to write than I expected, because well life. I'm currently in the middle of another project that does not involve writing, as well as working on building a Mini-farm. Plus kids, and maintaining healthy relationships. So yeah. Updates may be sporadic at times but they will come. Thank you for your patience and for all the love this story has received. Enjoy!

Walking fully into the club, Hermione was glad for the dim lighting. She could hardly make out anyone’s features, so hoped that their entrance would go unnoticed. Unfortunately, that was not the case, because standing behind the bar was Seamus Finnigan. 

“Oi! Look who it is, Harry and Hermione! Come ‘ere you two. First rounds on me, yeah?” The Irishman’s lilting voice carried over the crowd, causing heads to turn in their direction. Harry’s comforting presence was all that kept her from fleeing from their accusatory stares. 

Dimly she heard a whispered, “You’ve got this.” So she straightened her shoulders and plastered a fake smile on her face. Making her way to the bar, she leaned over it to press a quick peck to Seamus’ cheek in greeting. Seamus pulled back dramatically and pressed his hand to his chest. 

“Ah, easy lass, before you go and steal my poor heart. Women would be weeping from here to Ireland if you did that.” He joked in his usual bawdy tone. 

Hermione tossed her head back and laughed loudly, “Tears of joy, you mean! They’d be spared your terrible pick up lines then, at least.” 

Harry and Draco both let out a chuckle from where they stood nearby, as did much of the bar. Seamus let out an offended squak, and placed a glass of Guinness in front of her, before sending a wink to another witch at the end of the bar. 

“Ah, I doubt that. You like my pick-up lines, dontcha love?” He called making his way to her. The witch in question merely giggled and twirled a strand of hair around her fingers. Hermione snorted at the display and took a healthy swig of her beer. The white cap of foam sticking to her upper lip, causing her to lick it off without thinking.

Glancing up she caught Harry’s gaze just as she did so, and fought the blush that rose to her cheeks. Harry smiled at her, before turning his attention back to Draco with a serious expression on his face. Hermione wondered exactly what that was about, but decided to let it be for now. Harry would tell her if it were something important, and if not she could always badger Malfoy at work. Afterall, she wasn’t relying on his hospitality. 

Hermione quickly finished her drink and made to order another when she felt a hand gripping her shoulder too tightly to be comfortable. Just as she was about to turn around to tell the wizard off, Harry was there, pushing him back. Malfoy, oddly was taking up a stance behind Harry’s left shoulder. Turning around fully she felt her heart clench at the sight of an inebriated Ron. Damn, and she’d almost forgotten he was here somewhere. Of course he wouldn’t be able to leave them in peace.

“Get your bloody paws off me, Potter.” Ron snarled, although his words were slurred and difficult to understand.   
“I will, as soon as you leave this club.” Harry snapped back, placing himself firmly in front of her. Hermione felt her hands begin to tremble, and sought purchase on her shorts to hide the obvious tell. 

Ron’s drunken gaze met hers over Harry’s shoulder, “I just wanna talk to her!” he growled as he made to push against Harry’s strong grip. 

“Don’t make me break your nose, again, Ron. You’re in no state to talk to her now, and you know it.” Harry shoved back, causing Ron to stumble. 

All the commotion was drawing stares and Hermione wanted to scream and pitch a fit at Ron for his callous and ill-thought out behaviour, but she knew it would only be giving him what he wanted. He thrived on their fights, always trying to make it seem like it was her fault, as if she was overreacting to whatever the issue was. Not tonight, and not ever again. 

So standing behind Harry, she placed a careful hand on his shoulder, causing him to glance at her over his shoulder. Nodding her consent she moved to stand in front of him, much to his displeasure, as told by the obvious clenching of his jaw. 

“We’ve nothing left to say to one another, Ronald. I made that clear when I gave you your ring back.” She told him, tone icy. 

Ron dropped to his knees in front of her, moving to take her hands in his, but she quickly stepped back. Ignoring the look of outrage on his face, she made to disappear into the crowd that had formed, but stopped cold when she heard him call out. 

“Fine, go be a whore then! You already look the part!” 

For a brief moment, a rush of shame flew over her in a wave of heat, before that heat turned to anger. Turning around she stalked towards him, the fire in her eyes causing him to flinch bak and gulp. 

“Now you listen to me, and listen well, you stupid boy! I did everything for you, for three years! And all you did was try to tear me down! You complained about my work, my clothes, my friends, my talk, my walk, everything! You tried to make yourself feel bigger by breaking me down, well, you failed. You’re still the same small minded boy that I met in first year with dirt on his nose. The same boy, who couldn’t stand for a girl to be smarter than you, that you decided to try and belittle me. And I allowed it, for years. And I will admit that I was so stupid to trust you, but no more. You can go and rot for all I care. And as far as calling me a whore? Well, I’d rather be a high-class whore than your second-class wife, while you go and fuck around on me.” She was breathing heavily by the time she ended her tirade, and she turned away from him with all the grace she possessed. 

The crowd around them stood in shocked silence, and they parted silently for Hermione to make her way through. Before she could fully leave the circle though, Ron had made his way to his feet and shouted at her back. 

“Maybe I wouldn’t have fucked around if you weren’t such a frigid bitch!” as he lunged towards her. Harry’s outstretched arm preventing him from getting too close. Letting a wicked smile cross her lips she turned back around in a flash. 

Pressing one of her freshly manicured nails into his chest she forced him back into the bar.   
“So which is it, Ronald? Am I a whore, or a frigid bitch? Can’t make up your mind? Is it because you lack the intelligence to realize that a woman cannot be both a whore and a prude? Or is it simply because you feel a need to blame someone else for your own weaknesses?” 

Shoving hand against his chest, she took great pleasure in watching him fall against the bar. 

“Let me tell you something, Ronald Billius Weasley, a woman can enjoy sex without being a whore, and just because I didn’t enjoy it with you does not make me a prude. Perhaps had you spent more than a fumbling five minutes trying to reach your pleasure and focused on someone else for a change, our relationship would have ended differently. But instead you sought your pleasure elsewhere, instead of trying to fix the issue that you saw. Because all you are is an insecure little boy, and if things don’t go your way you throw a tantrum. You disgust me.” 

And with a final flourish, she strode away from him without a backwards glance, only slightly satisfied by their confrontation. She knew she would have to answer for it, but for now, she would walk away with her head held high. Exiting the club, she barely spared the Paparazzi a glance, before apparating back to Grimmauld Place. 

Meanwhile Harry stared at Ron in disgust, unable to contemplate how such a piece of shit wizard thought he had the right to judge Hermione, for things Harry knew she hadn’t done. Stepping closer to the stumbling man, no, Hermione was right. Stepping closer to the boy, Harry leaned down, making sure Ron was able to make him out clearly. 

“If you ever, speak to her like that again, they’ll never find your body. Clear?” 

Something in Harry’s voice or demeanor must have struck a chord with Ron, because he nodded shakily, before fleeing to the other side of the club. Harry watched him go with a frown. How long had Ron’s treatment of Hermione really been going on? Surely it couldn’t have started over night, and why exactly did Hermione allow it? Didn’t she know she deserved better? 

“About time you started sticking up for her.” Malfoy sneered, arms crossed as he too watched Ron reach for a stranger’s glass, ignoring their protest. 

Harry turned his head sharply, a denial about tos splutter out.   
“Oh, I’m not saying you didn’t defend her from me and the other Slytherin’s. Or from anyone who was outright mean to her. But you never said a word about how he treated her. That’s one of the reason’s I was such a prick to him growing up. My father might not have been the best role model, but even he wouldn’t speak to a girl that way. Regardless of her blood status.” Malfoy commented, signalling to Seamus for a round of shots. 

“I really shouldn’t. I need to go check on her.” Harry told him, but he picked up the glass anyways. 

Malfoy snorted. “You and I both know she’d better left to cool off alone. Besides, we need to finish our discussion. I have no need or want for the Black Family Title. However, my mother is worried if I hand the title to you, that she would be forced to hand over all of her family heirlooms.” 

Harry took a slow sip, processing what Malfoy was implying. “So if I were to agree to letting her keep her heirlooms, you’d sign your rights to the Black Lordship over to me?” 

“Precisely.” Malfoy said, raising his glass in a mock toast. 

Harry rolled the empty glass between his hands. It seemed like a good deal, but he’d learned over the years, that Slytherin’s never did anything for free, and they certainly never gave away power. 

“What’s the catch?” Harry questioned, meeting Draco’s gaze. 

A shark’s smile crawled over Malfoy’s face, “Ah, well that’s the crux of it, isn’t it. And Mother thought you naive enough to agree without question. Now, personally I’d love nothing more than for you to take the Black Lordship and piss off to France or Italy, or well anywhere. Leaving Hermione here, of course.” Harry felt his fists ball up and his jaw clench. 

“Oh relax, I know even if you did leave she’d follow you. No, if I want to win her I’ll have to use every bit of Slytherin cunning to get what I want. My mother made me agree to leave her out of the arrangement, lest you tell us to shove it. So, my mother, in her infinite wisdom suggested that she gets to keep her heirlooms, and a ten percent stake in all Black Family holdings.” Draco signalled for another round, but Harry refrained. 

He’d need a clear head when dealing with a snake, especially one that had his sights set on his best friend. It wasn’t that he was jealous, per say, as there was nothing to be jealous of. Not truly. But the idea of Hermione falling for Draco Malfoy; of her one day marrying the prat and having his children, well it made Harry want to smash something into pieces. Preferably, Draco Malfoy’s ridiculously pointed nose. 

“She can keep her heirlooms, and a six percent stake in the Family holdings, but anything tainted by Voldemort must be destroyed.” Harry responded, propping his elbows on the bar in front of him. 

Draco hummed, “You’re smarter than you look, Potter. An eight percent stake, my mother keeps her trinkets, and we’ll have the Goblins oversee the destruction of anything touched by Voldemort in both my mother’s and y late Aunt’s vault.” 

Harry nodded, satisfied that for now, that was the best he would get.   
“I’ll have Steeltooth draw up the papers, and we’ll meet to sign them.” 

Draco stood and held out a hand for Harry to shake, which he took reluctantly. Harry watched the blonde walk away and considered ordering another drink. 

“Oh, and Potter? When it comes to Granger, understand that I’ve waited two years for her to realize her mistake. I won’t sit back idly while you capture her heart. My hat’s fully in this race, and I intend to win.” Draco called rather smugly. 

“You’d think you’d be used to losing to me after all those years on the quidditch pitch, Malfoy. Hermione would never fall for the likes of you.” Harry snapped back, before brushing past a now glaring Malfoy to apparate home to Grimmauld Place. 

He knew Hermione needed time to fully get over Ron, but he had even more reason to let his interest be known. He’d foolishly lost his chance with her once. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. Y'all reaaaallllyyy don't like Draco or love triangles do you. Ye of little faith. Keep in mind she's worked alongside him for the past three years and he's no longer the little shit he once was. Also, he's a bit more observant than our dear Harrykins, so there's that. For those of you wondering, have no fear I have another character in mind for Draco, and all will be revealed soon. For those of you still with me, read on.

Harry made his way back to Grimmauld, and immediately sought out Hermione. He knew her well enough to know that although she hadn’t shown it, Ron’s callous words had cut her deeply. Harry knew she probably wouldn’t want to talk about it, but he wanted her to know that he was there for her. How Ron could be so daft as to accuse Hermione of being a whore, was astounding to Harry. She had one of the highest moral compasses of anyone he knew, and while he agreed there was nothing wrong with a woman who enjoyed sex, Hermione wasn’t the type to seek out random strangers for one night stands. Nor was she the type to jump immediately from one man’s bed into another. Especially not after she had invested so much in the relationship. 

He hadn’t mentioned it to her, but he’d seen the destroyed binder full of wedding plans in the trash the morning after she’d moved in. He knew for a fact that she’d spent weeks agonizing over choices such as the dress, and the flowers and the colors. She’d wanted everything to be perfect. Not that any of it mattered now. Perhaps one day he’d get to see her in a flowing wedding dress. 

He stopped in his tracks as the idea played in his mind. Hermione, looking even more gorgeous than the night of the Yule ball, decked out in a white wedding dress carrying a bouquet of gardenia and begonia’s. Her hair flowing loosely around her shoulders, with flowers strewn throughout. And best of all, she’d be walking towards him with a smile on her face. Harry felt his heart race at the thought. 

The idea that maybe, just maybe there would come a day when he could marry the one woman who had been constant in his life since he was eleven years old, sent a thrill through him. He knew he would do anything to make that dream a reality, but to be honest he was clueless as to where to start. He didn’t want their relationship to have any similarities to hers with Ron. Which meant he would have to actually attempt to woo her, instead of depending on outside pressure to force them together. 

How he’d been such an idiot to let that happen in the first place was rather pathetic. Too absorbed in his melancholy thoughts, he didn’t hear the object of said thoughts until she was directly in front of him. 

Hermione huffed and snapped her fingers in front of Harry’s face, mere centimeters from his nose, causing him to jump back in a start. Snorting she tried not to laugh at the expression on his face. He truly did look like a deer in headlights. 

“All right there, Harry?” 

“Y-yeah,” he cleared his throat, “Just fine. Are you? I mean, that scene at the club wasn’t too pleasant. You were brilliant, but Ron’s a right prat.” Harry chuckled, running his hands through his hair, causing Hermione to be momentarily distracted by the way the muscles in his arm flexed.   
“Uhm, yeah.” Hermione told him, nodding her head briskly. And in truth, she was okay. She knew she’d have to confront Ron at some point, and doing so in a way that she came out on top felt good. It felt brilliant actually, to walk away from an encounter with Ronald without feeling as if she’d done something wrong. 

“As a matter of fact, I feel better than I have in a long time. Thank you, Harry.” She told him smiling, before moving in to give him a tight hug. Harry returned the embrace eagerly, pressing his chin against the top of her head. 

“You’re more than welcome, although I’m not sure I did much.” He told her, quietly breathing in the scent of her hair. Somehow the witch had managed to read so many books, the smell emanated from even her hair. Hermione pulled back slightly, in order to meet his gaze. 

“You were there, Harry. That’s enough.” She told him softly, before pressing a swift kiss to his cheek. Blushing to the roots of her hair she disentangled herself quickly and fled up the stairs, leaving Harry to stand in the main hall with a dumbstruck look on his face. Closing the door to her room, Hermione missed the way Harry’s entire face lit up as he gingerly touched his cheek where her lips had been. 

 

The following morning, Hermione was due to return to work, so she donned the robe of the Unspeakables and flooed to the Ministry well before Harry arose. Once there she quickly made her way to her office in the DOM. Pressing her hand against the door, she let her magic rush to the surface so she could gain entry. 

Closing the door softly behind her she took in the state of her office, noticing the neatly stacked papers on the center of the granite desk. Next to which sat her ink pen, a constant form of consternation between herself and Croaker, who insisted she needed to use a quill. She knew for a fact that the old man couldn’t really tell the difference, as she’d often set a quill on her desk, but write using the pen. 

Not that it mattered anyways. Her work was impeccable, and on time if not early. So he could pitch a fit all he liked, she was still going to use her bloody pen. Sighing, she sat in the comfy chair she’d bought specifically for her office, and pressed her fingers to the new scanner she’d had implemented into the system. A purple glow shone in the empty tray before suddenly being filled with several new projects. Frowning, she got to work on the first one. It would be a truly busy day. 

When lunchtime came, she debated on going to the Alley for lunch. She didn’t want to chance running into any of the Weasley’s, especially as her interview with Ernie was scheduled for after she finished work today. And she certainly didn’t want to meet him in a terrible mood. Which knowing Molly would be exactly what she’d get for her trouble. The witch had already attempted to send several Howlers, which had all been disposed of by Kreacher. 

Standing and stretching she decided that she could make due with the Ministry’s cafeteria fare. After all, it was highly unlikely that Arthur or Percy would confront her at their place of work. Removing her robe at the designated area she made her way to the lunch area. On her way she felt steel creep up her spine, when she saw an unfortunately familiar face. Sally-Anne Perks was striding towards her with a determined look on her rather pretty features. 

“Miss Granger, I don’t mean to be so formal, but I doubt you would appreciate any familiarity on my part. If I may have a word, please?” Sally-Anne asked, tilting her head to the side with a tight smile. 

Hermione stared for a moment, before nodding her acquiescence. There was no need to be rude, even if the woman did sleep with her then fiancee. She watched placidly as Sally let out a relieved sigh, shoulders almost hefting with the exertion. 

“I wanted to apologize. I had no idea about you and, well. I’d been out of the country you see? My family has business in Hong-Kong , and I was there managing it. So when I got back, I planned to de-stress at a pub, and he was there, and I was drunk, and I know it’s no excuse but I am truly, terribly sorry.” The witch babbled, her speech becoming almost indecipherable as she got more worked up. 

Hermione felt a reluctant pang for the other woman. Ronald had lied to both of them, and apparently taken advantage of Sally-Anne in her drunkenness. Placing a gentle hand on Sally’s shoulder, she gave the witch a gentle smile. 

“It’s alright. I highly doubt you were the first he cheated on me with, although, you are the first to voice an apology thereafter. I appreciate that.” Hermione paused, “Are you hungry? I was just about to head to lunch, and I would love some company.” 

Sally nodded gratefully and together the two women made their way to the cafeteria. Hermione smiled to herself, thinking that perhaps more than one good thing would come from Ron’s betrayal.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this clears some things up. Enjoy.

Hermione greeted Ernie with a hug, before sitting across from him at the small private table he’d procured. Work had been hectic, but after her lunch with Sally she felt as if a part of her was at peace. Neither woman had bad feelings towards the other, and they’d set up a tentative standing lunch date every Monday from there on out. 

“ I must say, Hermione, single looks good on you.” Ernie complimented her, causing heat to bloom across her cheeks. 

“Oh, well thank you. You’re looking rather dapper yourself.” She told him before taking a sip of her water. 

Ernie smiled and placed a hand on hers that was resting on the table, “No need to be so nervous. I’m nothing like that bitch Marietta. Everyone knows she didn’t source you or Harry, but the editor won’t pull the article because she’s a very good friend. If you know what I mean.” 

Hermione’s eyes widened at the implication. 

“Oh, yes. But not to worry, we’ll get the truth out. I always thought you were too good for Ron anyways. Much better suited to Harry if you ask me. Oh, what am I saying. Don’t pay me any mind, I had a few too many cocktails and they seem to have loosened my tongue.” Ernie laughed and Hermione couldn’t help feeling at ease around him. 

“Of course. So how should we go about this? Do you just ask me questions, or well I’m not certain.” Hermione asked, teeth catching her lower lip as her brows furrowed. 

“Straight to the point as always. Well, the best thing I suppose would be to just tell me the whole sordid tale. After all, many of us have already heard about the little spat that happened at Vocaris last night. Tell me, Hermione, what led up to that?” He asked, a quill and notepad appearing in his hand with a flourish. 

Hermione admired the pheasant feathered quill for a moment before telling Ernie every single detail she could remember, from the beginning of their relationship to the nasty end. Ernie hemmed and hawed, and nodded in all the right places. He was an excellent listener, and she found herself pouring more of her feelings into everything she told him. When she was through Ernie gripped both of her hands in his own and sighed. 

“You poor dear. Don’t worry about a thing. We’re going to nail Ronald Weasley to the proverbial wall for what he’s done to you. If I were a straight wizard, I’d be one of the first in line to try and mend that broken heart of yours.” He told her, patting her hands comfortingly. 

Hermione let out a watery laugh at that, “Oh but haven’t you heard Ernie? Sometimes there’s beauty in broken things. I’m just looking for the beauty in this.” 

Ernie sent her a wink and stood, “You keep doing that.” With a soft squeeze to her shoulder he left the table. 

Hermione dried her eyes and left shortly after, planning to go home and take a nice lng bubble bath. Funny that, how easily Grimmauld Place had become her home. Perhaps it was a bit of nostalgia, or perhaps it was because of a raven-haired man who called it home too. Walking through the door, the first thing she did was kick off her high heels, smirking when the shoe rack she’d charmed picked then up and set them daintly on their designated space. 

“Harry?” She called out, making her way towards the kitchen where she could smell something burning. Harry’s mumbled curse and shouted ouch made her walk a little faster into the kitchen, a hard task to accomplish in a pencil skirt. Bracing herself against the doorway, she had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. 

Harry stood in the center of the kitchen, clutching his hand with a dish towel as he hopped around. On the counter in front of him was what resembled a cake. Only, it was burnt. Very burnt, if the acrid smoke and one small flame resting atop it was to go by. Harry was covered in white flour, and she was certain that he even had a bit of egg on his cheek. 

“Hermione! Hey, I was just trying to make a cake.” Harry told her, grinning sheepishly. 

“I can see that. So, did the oven attack, or was it the flour?” She laughed, making her way towards him. Gently taking his hand in her own she glanced over it, happy to note it was only a minor burn. Turning away she grabbed a bit of the burn ointment she knew Kreacher kept stocked for such occasions. 

Pushing Harry to sit at the table she began applying the ointment carefully, smiling in satisfaction as the redness went away and the skin lost some of the taut shininess. Harry glanced at her with a smile, squeezing her hand in thanks. Hermione returned the squeeze with a smile of her own and flicked her wand at the cake sending the burnt monstrosity into the bin. 

“A bit of both, actually.” Harry groaned, glancing about the kitchen that was covered in flour. 

“What was the cake for anyways?” Hermione asked with raised eyebrows. 

“Well, I wanted to celebrate the interview. I know you smashed it out of the park. And I wanted to do something nice for you.” Harry told her, running one of his hands through his messy hair. 

Touched by the gesture, Hermione leant forward to give Harry a hug, mindless of the flour still covering him. Truthfully he had one of the biggest hearts she’d seen. Always going out of his way to make others feel better. Especially her. Pulling back she carefully wiped away the bit of eggshell that had stuck itself to Harry’s cheek. 

“Thank you, Harry. Although it really wasn’t necessary-”

“Or successful.” Harry cut in.

“It was still very kind of you to do so. However, inedible it turned out to be.” She laughed, not noticing the way Harry’s eyes seemed to suddenly be incapable of looking away from her lips. 

“Well, how about since the cake was such a failure, I clean up down here and we go out for sushi?” Harry finally asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. 

Nodding Hermione stood, “That sounds wonderful. I’m just gonna take a bath and change while you do so.” 

Harry watched her go, trying desperately not to think of his best friend naked in soapy water only a few floors above him. 

 

It had been a week since the article had come out, and it seemed as if the entire wizarding community was buzzing about it. She’d heard from Sally-Anne that George had fired Ron from the shop, sending him fleeing from the shop with a pair of large bunny ears and an inability to stop skipping, along with a purple hue to his skin. The two had laughed over the story on one of their walks through the ministry, drawing stares from other co workers. 

Harry and Hermione had only seemed to grow closer, spending nights together in Grimmauld’s library or going out to various muggle restaurants . Many times Hermione had to remind herself that these were not dates. No matter how intimate some of the places were. Honestly she was finding it more and more difficult to distance herself from Harry, in a romantic sense. He was funny and charming and it seemed as if they had a chemistry that just clicked. But she was unsure of his feelings towards her, and she didn’t want to ruin another friendship if he didn’t feel the same. And even if he did, she didn’t want to lose him if things ended on a sour note. 

So it came as a bit of a surprise when it was Draco who pointed it out to her. They’d been going over their newly allocated research project, one of the few pairs that could actually work together, when he’d mentioned Harry. 

“So. Has Potter dug his head out of his arse and asked you out properly yet?” He’d questioned in his usually blunt way of doing things. Honestly, for a Slytherin he had the subtlety of a brick. 

“What! Why would you even ask that? Harry and I are friends.” She’d spluttered, trying to hide the blush unsuccessfully. 

“What you are, is hopeless. Honestly, you’ve been dancing around one another since third year, I think it’s about time one of you made a move.” Draco had sighed, his tone displaying his smug superiority. It had used to grate on her nerves, but after talking to him, she’d learned it was a simple unfortunate side effect of being raised Lucius Malfoy’s son. 

“How would you know, you and Harry barely speak. And when you do, it’s just verging on civil.” She’d frowned, turning back to the book in front of her and jotting down a few notes as she read. 

“Based on his reaction when I mentioned even the possibility of something happening between us, the man is smitten.” Draco told her, leaning away as she swatted at him viciously. 

“You’re a right prat Draco Malfoy! You and I both know the likelihood of something happening between us is about as much as Luna finding one of those Crumple-Horned Snorkracks she chases.” She’d shouted, miming gagging when he’d finally moved to the other side of the table to avoid her. 

“Oh how you wound me. We know that, but Potter doesn’t and seeing as how the fool has yet to date you properly, I’m beginning to wonder if he might be into blokes instead.” Draco had sighed. 

“He’s not.” 

“You’re certain? I mean, I’m not, but Blaise might be. Seems he’ll sleep with anything that has two legs and a heartbeat.” Draco asked ducking the crumpled bit of paper she’d chucked at his head. 

“Yes, Malfoy, I’m certain that Harry is straight. Besides, he’s a gentleman.” 

“Boring.” Draco singsonged, before heaving a sigh, “Well, that actually kind of suits you.” He laughed making his way from the room just in time to avoid the Jelly-Legs Jinx she’d shot at him. 

It did leave Hermione with a dilemma though. She’d realized she found Harry attractive, now she needed a way to know if he thought the same. Putting her plan for revenge on Ron on the back burner, certain that he could probably check off bits of her list on his own,she started formulating a new plan. One involving a Mr. Harry James Potter.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione was at a complete and utter loss. A rare occurrence for her. It had been two weeks since she’d come to the realisation that she found Harry attractive, and since then she’d discovered she was most likely in love with the fool. But, no matter what she tried, she never got an obvious reaction from him. She’d taken to wearing the shortest shorts possible to sleep in, bending over at every opportunity around Harry. She’d sit herself exceptionally close to him, under the guise of wanting his opinion on one of the books she was reading. She’d even walked into the hallway in nothing but a towel, dripping wet from a shower, and still got no response. 

Draco found it hilarious, and Sally-Anne would tsk in sympathy. Hermione had noticed the two becoming closer, and tried not to let jealousy get the best of her. She was happy that they were happy, but a part of her wanted that for herself. More specifically, with a certain raven haired green eyed man. Frowning at her drink she sighed and tossed the shot back with ease.

“Ah, now cheer up, Hermione love! Sometimes men are oblivious.” Sally-Anne attempted to comfort her. 

“Yes and Potter is the most oblivious of us all,” Draco snorted, before covering his mouth in shock. This just made Hermione and Sally laugh heartily. Draco tossed a few wadded up napkins their way, before sitting back with his arms crossed. 

“You two are horrible influences.” He told them drily. 

“But you love us!” They’d shouted back laughing, neither noticing the way his eyes softened particularly at Sally-Anne for a moment. .

“What am I going to do? I’ve done all I can think of, short of crawling into his bed naked.” Hermione groaned, head in her hands. 

“Do that!” Sally-Anne laughed, flicking Hermione on the nose when she glared at the advice. 

“Go out on a date with someone else.” Draco suggested, making Hermione blanche. 

“No. Definitely not. I already know how I feel about Harry, and it wouldn’t be fair to lead some other guy on.” She told him firmly. No there had to be another way. 

“You could talk to him.” Sally suggested, taking a sip from her fruity concoction. 

Hermione mulled that thought over. It wasn’t as if you’ve got anything to lose, Hermione thought to herself. Either he felt the same way, or he didn’t. Of course if he didn’t it might be terribly embarrassing for a while, but she felt that she could remain his friend. From a distance. MAybe she’d move to France if it all fell apart. 

 

Across town, Harry was having his own dilemma. He was supposed to be meditating with the Goblins, so he’d be able to dominate the Black Family Magic when the time came, but every time he closed his eyes, Hermione’s shapely legs formed in his mind. He was one accidental brush against her from laying her out and making a meal of her. He couldn’t decide whether he loved or hated her sleep shorts. They looked fantastic on her, hugging her arse perfectly, and showing off long lean legs, but Gods were they torture. 

“Focus, Lord Potter! Or else I’ll send you into the ritual unprepared for wasting my time!” Snarled Steeltooth. 

“Right. Sorry, Steeltooth.” Harry murmured abashed. The Goblins didn’t have to help him, but they were trying to make reparation for the crimes done by one of their own. Already they’d worked to retrieve his money from the Dursley’s and they had been somewhat successful. It turned out Petunia was even more paranoid than she was nosey. When Vernon tried to spend the money they’d been receiving, she’d locked it all away in a private account. 

He’d still lost a little over a hundred thousand pounds, money that had been used to purchase the house outright and the car. The goblins had offered to confiscate both, but he’d refused. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d called Number 4 Privet Drive home for long enough to not be bothered with paying the place off. And the car was practically a hunk of junk now, any true value already lost. 

Frowning he tried once again to clear his thoughts and reach for his magic like Steeltooth had taught him. Finding peace in the warmth of his magic, he let himself sink into it. It was a heady experience, the flow of power lapping at him like gentle waves. This is what he imagined a mother’s embrace to feel like. What he pictured when he thought of his father’s smile. All his life he’d searched for a way to connect with them, and here it was. His magic came from his family, and in it he knew he’d never truly be bereft in the world. 

Once he felt confident enough in his control of his magical legacy, he began testing it. Sending it out further and further before pulling it back swiftly. Taking it into the very core of himself, before slowly releasing it again. He pushed out more and more of his magic, until finally Steeltooth called for an end. 

“Enough. You’ve done well for today. Much more and you’ll exhaust yourself.” Steeltooth commanded forcefully, breaking the tranquility of the moment. This was why the Goblins supervised his meditating. Steeltooth explained that due to his family magic being silenced for so long by the Horcrux that had resided in his head, it was more eager. And because Harry himself was unfamiliar with this form of connecting with his magic, he could too easily get swept away in it until he burned out his magical core. 

“You’ve been distracted lately.” Steeltooth commented drily. 

“Er, yeah. I’m-”

“Stop apologizing! Especially when there’s nothing to truly apologize for, it shows weakness, and one thing a Lord should never be seen as is weak. Especially one who’s about to be one of the most powerful Lord’s in London.” Steeltooth hissed in annoyance, glints of silver showing as he spoke. 

“Well, yeah. But I’m wasting your time aren’t I?” Harry frowned, rubbing the back of his head and looking down. 

“Bah. I decide who wastes my time, Potter. Not you. If you ever do anything to be sorry for in a Goblin’s presence, rest assured, you’ll know it.” Steeltooth huffed, tapping his fingers against his desk. 

“And how’s that?” 

“You’ll be dead.” 

Harry gulped, but kept Steeltooth’s gaze, certain this was another of the Goblin’s tests. When said Goblin let out a hearty chuckle, he allowed himself a breath of relief. One more test past, a million more to go. 

 

Arriving home to Grimmauld Place, Harry tried not to tense up. He wanted to see Hermione, he truly did, but he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. One more glimpse of her in a towel was all it would take, and he’d lose control. The worst part was, he couldn’t even think about asking her to cover up. Even if he wanted to. He wanted her to feel at home here, and if she felt at home gallivanting around in shorts so short they might as well be underwear, well who was he to stop her? He’d just have to get a firm grip on his hormones, and perhaps something else. 

“There you are, Harry! I ordered in from that Indian restaurant you like so much. Come, sit down and have a chat.” Hermione called out from the kitchen. 

Swallowing nervously, Harry followed the sound of her voice and his nose. Curried Chicken was his current favorite and he smiled when he spotted it on the table along with fresh naan, and Hermione’s own Biryani. Hermione sitting at the table with a glass of white wine made for such a domestic display, he had to restrain himself from kissing her in greeting. Sure, seeing her in her shorts drove him wild, but there was nothing better than this. He wanted this everyday for the rest of his life. 

“How was your day?” He asked, sitting himself across from her. 

“Oh it was fine. Had lunch with Draco and Sally. Turned in a new research project for Croaker, the old codger. And then came home and unwound for a bit. What about you?” She asked, before taking a bite of food. 

“Well, I attended officer classes for the day, then had another meeting with the Goblins.” He told her, trying to dig into his food with as much dignity as possible knowing how much she hated rude manners. 

“They got most of my money back. Only a hundred thousand pounds lost, God I sound like such a pretentious prick saying that,” he laughed, “But Steeltooth says we’ll make twice that in interest alone in the next six months so it’s not quite a huge loss. And we’ve been delving deeper into my magical core to prepare it to take over the Black Family magic.” 

Hermione snorted. Only a hundred thousand pounds indeed. Biting the bullet, so to speak, Hermione gathered her Gryffindor courage and met Harry’s gaze across the table. 

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” 

“Oh?” Harry swallowed, his grip grew tighter on his fork. If she told him that she was going on a date and wanted to bring the bloke back here, he might just hex the man. 

“Yes. You see, oh bollocks. I like you Harry.” She blurted out, at his blank stare she felt herself grow red. 

“As in really, like you. If you don’t feel the same that’s perfectly alright, I’ll figure out a way to get over it. I mean it might just be a silly crush-” 

She was cut off by a press of lips against her own. Harry’s hands curled their way into her hair and she felt herself being pulled across the table, food pushed to the floor. Before she knew it she was set in Harry’s lap. 

“Like hell you’ll get over it witch, I’ve been waiting for weeks to be able to do that.” He whispered huskily. 

 

Slapping his shoulder in shock she laughed, “Well, you should have taken a hint.” 

Standing with Hermione in his arms, Harry apparated them to his bedroom. “How’s this for a hint?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such the long wait. Hopefully this made some of you happy, even if you hate me for the cliffhanger.


	9. Chapter 9

Laughing, the pair of them fell onto the bed when Harry stumbled, unused to the added weight while apparating. Meeting each other’s gazes their giggles died down and Harry couldn’t help but to brush away a stray curl. Tracing the curve of her jaw, he slid his hand into the riotous curls marvelling in their texture. 

“You are so beautiful,” He whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

“You’ve already got me in your bed, Potter. No need for flattery.” Hermione said with a blush. 

Harry pulled back, careful not to tug on her hair. How was it possible that this incredible woman didn’t realize just how beautiful she was? Was Ronald really that much of an idiot? Physically she was stunning, but when you took all of that away, her entire soul burned with a brightness that emated around her. One look and you would know that Hermione Granger was a good and just person. You’d have to be blind not to. 

“You are. And I intend to spend the rest of my days reminding you just how truly special you are, Hermione.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, not giving her a chance to overthink it, and the ember that had been their passion flared back to life like a raging inferno. 

Hermione’s hands found their way into his hair, while his hands made swift work of the buttons on her blouse. They broke a part only long enough to remove his shirt, before Hermione’s impatience got the best of her and she banished the rest of their clothes. Harry tried to slow things down again, but it couldn’t be done. Too long they’d waited for this, and until they took the edge off, there was no time for slow. Later, he’d spend hours worshipping her body, but now he needed affirmation that she was real. That his dreams were coming true right in front of him. 

Trailing kisses down her neck he had to physically restrain himself from leaving a trail of lovebites along the way. She’d likely hex him if he did. Instead he made his way south to her breasts, loving the way they felt in his hands. Taking a nipple in his mouth he alternated suckling and nipping at it, while his free hand rolled the other gently. 

Hermione’s head was thrown as far back as the bed would allow, and a river of moans flowed from her mouth. Before he could continue further south, Hermione canted her hips and lined herself up with his hard member. Harry let out a hiss at the warm slickness that coated his cock. Bumping his hips against hers, they both let out muttered curses. 

Tight, wet, nirvana. None of his fantasies could compare to the way she felt squeezing around him. Burying his head against her shoulder he forced himself to stay still, more so he wouldn’t ruin the moment by lasting only a few thrusts. Hermione wasn’t having it though, and had slid one of her heels up to press firmly into his arse urging him on. 

“Please, Harry?” She’d begged breathlessly in his ear, and his control snapped. 

He set a punishing pace, one hand slipping between them to rub quick circles around her clit. Soon he could feel the fluttering of her walls against his prick, and He couldn’t help but to bite her shoulder in response. Apparently that was enough to set her over the edge, because she clamped down tighter around him. Two swift thrusts later and he was joining her in pleasure. 

Easing himself to the side of her, he summoned a damp cloth to clean them up with, before discarding it. Hermione laid her head on his chest with a sleepy smile and a kiss. Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head, while his hand played with the curls that were sprawled across his arm. They faded off to sleep, no other words need to be said. 

 

Hermione awoke slowly, stretching out to relieve the soreness in her muscles. They’d made love three more times last night, before finally calling it a night around two in the morning. Which was fair considering Harry had to be at Officer Training at five. Hopefully none of his superiors would notice his sleepy state and ask questions. Hermione giggled at the thought, 

Sitting up, she made her way to the bathroom. Completing her daily ablutions, she returned to dress in one of Harry’s shirts. It would do until she made her way to her room. She wondered if Harry would want them to share a space now, or for them to wait and keep seperate rooms until their relationship was a little more settled. She knew she didn’t need to discuss things like monogamy with Harry. He wasn’t the type to cheat or to share. But living arrangements? Most definitely. 

Slipping into her room she sent off two Patronous’ to Sally and Draco, noticing with a grin that they both set off in the same direction even though Sally lived across town in a penthouse flat. Slipping into a light green sundress and nude wedges, she thought about inviting them to dinner one night. After assuring Harry that Malfoy and her were never going to happen and spilling her thoughts of him and Sally, Harry had taken small steps to get acclimated to Draco. 

The two would most likely never be best friends, but they could hold a civil conversation. As far as she knew Harry was still set to take on the Black inheritance the first week of August, a task made easier by Draco’s willingness to let the title go.

Sally-Anne’s osprey patronus came through the window, and proclaimed, “We’ll meet you at the Aether Cafe in Diagon in twenty minutes. Don’t be late.”

Hermione smirked to herself, a terrible habit she’d picked up from Draco over the years. Deciding Diagon to Apparate just shy of the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione enjoyed a brief walk to the entryway of the Alley. Waving to Tom, she made her way through the dingy pub and into the main alley itself. 

Deciding to stop at Scrivenshaft’s to pick up some new quills before heading to the Cafe, Hermione was shocked to find herself pushed to the ground. Glancing up she noticed it was Neville Longbottom who had shoved her aside, just in time to avoid a sickly yellow curse that had blasted a hole in a shop’s window. Turning to the direction the curse had come from Hermione was shocked to see Molly Weasley there. Chest heaving and wand sparking as she glared daggers at her. 

Getting to her feet gingerly, Hermione released her wand from it’s holster and met Molly’s gaze. 

“We don’t have to do this Molly.” 

“Don’t you dare say my name, you filthy whore! Everything’s ruined because of you!” Molly shouted, flicking another spell her way. Hermione blocked it easily enough, but she worried about the civilians that had gathered around. 

“Neville, Send a patronus to George and to the Ministry. And try to get the crowd back. She’s not sending out stunners.” She told him, bracing herself for yet another attack. 

She knew her best course of action would be to either stun or bind Molly to prevent her from harming someone unintentionally, but the woman was too angry to lower her defenses just yet. They’d have to duel, and Hermione hoped she could end things before Molly killed her. 

 

Harry was sitting in the bullpen going over paperwork when the call came in. Molly Weasley had attacked Hermione Granger in the middle of Diagon Alley and was casting lethal curses. Jumping up he immediately through on his red auror robes, and headed to the nearest apparition spot. 

“Auror Potter! Stop this instant! This is not your jurisdiction.” One of his superior officers shouted. 

Without a glance back, Harry replied, “Hermione Granger has, is, and always will be my jurisdiction.” 

Apparating onto the Alley was chaos. Several mothers with small children were hurrying away from the crowd, while aurors were trying to clear a path for them. Bright flashes of purples, blues, and yellows could be seen from his standpoint and Harry immediately began making his way through the crowd. Harry didn’t know exactly what had gotten into Molly Weasley, but if she harmed one hair on Hermione’s head he’d see her set in Azkaban. 

At hearing Molly’s voice call out a “Sectumsempra!” Harry pushed even harder to get to Hermione. He had to get to her. He had to make sure she was alright. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not when they’d finally gotten it right. Not when he had so many plans to show her how much he loved her. 

It felt as if every passing second was a hundred years, before he finally saw a break in the crowd. He could make out Hermione’s curls splayed out on the ground, and with an anguished cry he shot a powerful stunner at Molly, hitting her square in the back. Rushing to Hermione he gently rolled her over, thankful for the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Her arm was bleeding freely however, and she would have a new scar. 

Carefully chanting the healing spell, Harry prayed that this was the worst of Hermione’s injuries. When the other Auror’s arrived and pushed the crowd back further, Harry lifted Hermione and disapparated with a sharp crack straight to St. Mungo’s.


	10. Chapter 10

Awakening in a hospital bed was never a fun experience in Hermione Granger’s opinion. She’d only done so a handful of times, typically after a terrible plan went terribly wrong. Yet, no matter what, she just couldn’t find comfort in the cold sterile rooms of hospitals that seemed to transcend both the Muggle and Magical world’s. The open backed paper-like gown didn’t help matters either. Leaving her feeling more exposed than usual. 

Turning her head to find the soft snores that emanated throughout the room, she thought at first, the medi-witches had forgotten to place a silencing charm around her roommates side of the room. What she found instead was Harry Potter slouched down in an uncomfortable looking chair, with his head tossed back. The snores were coming from him, and she felt warmth glowing in her chest to know that Harry had stayed with her. 

“Ah, good you’re awake! I’m Healer Jacoby Fintswhistle, this is Mediwitch Elizabeth Hawkins. How are you feeling Miss Granger? You gave us all quite a scare.” Healer Fintswhistle questioned, making his way towards the foot of her bed after entering her room. 

Before he could wave his wand to perform a diagnostic however, Harry was out of his seat blinking blearily with his wand pointed in the Healer’s face. Hermione let out a gasp of shock, both at seeing Harry move so quickly and at his actions against the Healer. Jacoby didn’t seem the least bit bothered however, merely letting out a put-upon sigh and crossing his arms with a frown. 

“Must we go through this every-time, Mister Potter? As I’ve already explained, I am not a threat to Miss Granger. To attempt to harm her would forfeit my magic and very likely my life. Now please, let me tend to my patient before I have you barred from the Hospital.” Healer Fintswhistle chastised. 

Harry lowered his wand with a huff, returning to his seat at her bedside. He watched the Healer and Mediwitch carefully, wand gripped tightly as if at the first sign of her distress he’d curse the pair. Hermione knew it was likely that Molly’s attack on her had brought back painful memories from the war. Harry had always gone into hyper-awareness mode anytime she was injured, and that the attack came from a supposed friend only made it that much worse. 

“Well, Miss Granger, it seems you’ve recovered completely. We’ll continue to monitor your vitals, and if all remains well, you should be free to return home before dinner.” Healer Fintswhistle told her. 

Hermione snapped her attention to the man and offered a small smile, “Thank you, Healer Fintswhistle, Mediwitch Hawkins. I appreciate your care.” 

Fintswhistle smiled and patted her foot gently. “It’s not a problem, my dear. Although, your guard dog could use some proper training.”

Hermione hid her snort of amusement, but just barely based on Harry’s glower. Turning to face him fully once the Healer and Mediwitch had left, she reached a hand out for him. Immediately he clasped hers in his own and pressed several kisses to the back of her palm. She was only slightly surprised to feel a wetness brush against her hand from his cheek. 

“I thought I’d lost you, Hermione. Gods, when I saw you laying there after hearing here use that God-awful curse on you, I’d thought it was over. I don’t know what I would have done if she’d actually killed you.” Harry sobbed, clinging to her tightly. 

Pulling him closer, she allowed him to press his head against her stomach as he cried his relief. She ran her fingers through his messier than usual hair, a sure sign his own hands had been doing the same.Shushing him quietly, she let out a murmur of words, not entirely sure he’d be able to hear them, but needing to say them all the same. 

“I’m here Harry, and if I can help it, I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going to leave you alone if I have a single choice in the matter. You’re my best friend, Harry Potter. And I love you in more ways than I could have ever comprehended at eleven. Somehow along the way I fell in love with you, and It took one sudden moment for me to realize that all of the little moments were leading up to a monumental one.” 

Suddenly Harry had risen up and she found herself being kissed like never before. Not even their first kiss was like this. Pure need and love and promises rolled into the sweep of lips and tongue and teeth. The kiss could have gone on forever and she’d have never noticed. She knew without a doubt in her mind that she loved Harry Potter more than she’d ever love anyone in that moment. Breaking the kiss softly she smiled and brushed her thumb across his cheek. 

“What do you know, Harry? Why did she attack me so suddenly? In the middle of Diagon Alley, of all places.” Hermione questioned, searching for answers in Harry’s face. 

Harry let out a long low sigh. Pressing his lips together firmly, he gathered his thoughts, before relaying the information Terry Boot had passed along. 

“According to the arresting officer’s report, she didn’t go out today with the intention of attacking you. Once she saw you however, she couldn’t help herself. She was angry at your refusal of Ron, and the fact that you wouldn’t turn a blind eye to his infidelity,” Running his hands through his hair, he blew out a breath. 

“You’re worth quite a lot of money you know, add in your magical power and Molly saw you as a conduit for Ron’s success and happiness. She figured that she could convince you to agree to a traditional marriage, and thus put Ron and herself in control of every aspect of your life. They’d been able to decide if you worked, where, and for how long. They’d decide your healthcare, if you could have children or even if you could leave the home. And there’s not a damn thing anyone could do about it.” Harry threw himself back in his chair with a frustrated groan.  
“It would have put them in control of your assets, property, money, and any royalties you’d receive. They would have ruined you if you’d married him.” Harry told her, staring at the ceiling, lips pulled down in a frown. 

Hermione let out a breath. “That vicious little bitch!” 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that she’s all that little.” 

“Both of them are little bitches Harry. They’re amorale, egotistical, inconsiderate, deceitful little bitches! Please tell me that whoremonger and her son are going to Azkaban!” Hermione huffed, with a flush. Fingers twitching as if she wanted to hex something or someone. Personally, Harry didn’t blame her. He’d blasted a few conjured vases into smithereens just to take the edge off. 

“Molly is currently in a Ministry holding cell, and the auror’s are debating on seeking out Ronald. He hasn’t approached you as of yet and since he’s pureblood they’re not sure they have grounds to arrest him. He hasn’t done anything yet. And based on some whisperings, Molly won’t face outright charges for attacking you, but for endangering the public, property destruction, and improper instigation of a duel. Kingsley’s really ticked he can’t charge her with assault,so he’s throwing everything else at her.” Harry told her, reaching for her hand once again. 

Hermione met his gaze steadily, her mouth turned down in a frown. Old laws were still in place to protect Purebloods, and it seemed that for every one she helped repeal twelve more popped up in their place. Hands gripping Harry’s tightly, she let out a measured breath. 

“I know I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but if she escapes justice, I’ll wreak havoc on her and Ronald. And if Ron is stupid enough to approach me, I’ll use deadly force to protect myself. She’s already shown she has no proclivities against using it against me.” She told him and allowed Harry to cup her face in his hands. 

“Hermione, love, if it comes to that, I’ll help you burn their fucking bodies and we’ll escape to America if they even think about charging you.” Harry told her before pressing a heated kiss to her lips.


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione found herself back in her room at Grimmauld, and heaved a sigh as she lay back against her own pillows. Harry, Sally, and Draco had escorted her home, acting as a sort of honor guard for her. She’d had found it irritating, were it not for the fact that she knew it was for the Weasley’s safety, not her own. Her magic had coiled around her, and any perceived threat would not survive. It had done the same after the events at Malfoy Manor during the war. She’d noticed that during the Final Battle, even her stunners had the potential to be deadly. Several Death Eaters she had tagged, had died from blunt force trauma. 

So she couldn’t really blame the three of them from trying to save her from a cell in Azkaban. She allowed them to herd her into the Floo, and sat with them over tea in the parlor until her eyes could hardly stay open. Much to her protesting, Harry had carried her to her room and lay her in her bed. She’d murmured her disagreement about her being tired, but Harry wouldn’t hear it. Which was for the best, for mere minutes after her head hit the pillow, she had drifted off to sleep. 

Now she lay awake, and smiled down at the sight of Harry laying in the bed with her. His head rested on her stomach, and one arm was slung around her hips, using her as his personal body pillow. It was sweet, really, but she desperately had to use the facilities. So she tried to ease her way out from under him without waking him. Unfortunately she wasn’t successful, as Harry raised up blinking blearily. Letting him know that she was fine, she made her way to the bathroom. 

Walking back into her room, she nearly let out a scream at the sight of Draco’s great grey owl sitting on her dresser. Huffing, she clutched her chest and approached the mean little beast. Although it was one of the larger owls found in the Northern Hemisphere. It held a letter in its beak and she took it quickly, just barely avoiding being nipped. Leave it to Draco to have a contrary owl. 

Reading over the letter, she let out a frustrated groan. Croaker was demanding she take the week off, until they knew for sure when Molly’s trial was. And apparently, Ron had turned himself in to the DMLE at both Percy and his father’s request. Kingsley had made him take an Unbreakable Vow to never approach her with ill intent again, and to never seek out a way to harm her, either by himself or through a third party. 

Ron had thrown a bit of a hissy fit over it, but capitulated when he was told his other option was to be held in a ministry holding cell for conspiracy. Hermione couldn’t help but to feel relieved. Ronald Weasley was a lot of things, arrogant, thoughtless, and lazy to name a few; but he was also a coward. He’d never risk losing his life or magic, not even to get back at her. He’d confessed to her once, that his greatest fear outside of spiders was to live his life as a squib. 

Writing a short response to Draco, she told him to tell Croaker to shove it, and that she’d be at work the following day. Gingerly giving her response to Ophelia, she pulled her hand back just in time to avoid being scratched. Turning, she noticed Harry was awake, propped against her pillows with a grin on his face. 

“So the owl doesn’t like you either, huh?” He asked with a chuckle. 

“I doubt that bird even likes Draco. She simply tolerates him because she’s spoilt rotten.” Hermione huffed, crawling her way onto the bed with him. Harry placed a soft kiss on her lips, before flipping them suddenly. Hermione giggled at his actions and wrapped her arms around his neck. 

“Good morning.” Harry murmured into her neck. Pressing soft kisses along the column of her neck and down to her shoulder. 

“A good morning indeed. Ron turned himself in.” She told him. 

Harry pulled back and stared at her for a moment, before grinning. “Good, saves me the trouble of tracking him down. 

Hermione hummed in response, “Well, thanks to Kingsley, you won’t have to hunt him down at all. He took an unbreakable vow to never approach me again with ill intent. And he can’t convince someone else to do so either.” 

“That was surprisingly smart of him.” Harry remarked, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“His greatest fear is to be a squib. It’s fear, not intelligence that drives him.” 

“Indeed. Now, can we stop talking about him so I can ravish you properly?” Harry asked before pressing a firm kiss to her mouth. Hermione moaned her agreement, and they spent the rest of the morning exploring each others bodies more thoroughly. 

 

The week leading up to Molly’s trial passed in a blur, and Hermione would be glad for it to be over. Harry, Draco, and Sally were all acting like her personal honor guard, not letting her leave the Ministry without at least one of them. Several people had wished her well, and rumors flew about what had caused Molly to snap. 

Some people assumed it was the shame of having a son who was so blatantly unfaithful, while others thought she’d just finally cracked after living through two wars and losing her brothers and a son. Very few knew the real reason, and Hermione was content with that. No one needed to know just how much money she was worth. She wasn’t near as rich as Harry or Draco, but she had enough to live comfortably without needing to work if she so chose. Mostly due to investments her grandparents had made when she was a child that had been carefully managed by a firm for the past twenty years. 

As the victim of the attack, Hermione was compelled to attend Molly’s trial. So she donned a black power suit with her black red bottom stilettos, and marched into the Ministry with Harry at her side. Somewhere along the way, Neville joined them, taking up a stance to her left. She owed him dearly for saving her life, and was pleased that he was willing to testify on her behalf against Molly, despite his Grandmother’s wishes. 

Harry clasped her hand in his, leading her to her seat. He pressed a kiss to the back of her hand, before taking up a position directly behind her. His motives were clear to anyone in the room. Harry Potter would stand with Hermione Granger on this matter. The trial didn’t call for a full wizengamot, but many were in attendance. Minister for Magic Charlotte Ballard took her seat at the raised dais and shortly thereafter Molly Weasley was dragged in. 

On the other side of the room, the Weasley family sat, many of them glaring at her, although George and Charlie were notably absent. Fleur sent her an apologetic smile, and Hermione sent a tenuous one back. Charlotte cleared her throat and banged her gavel, drawing everyone’s attention towards her. 

“Unfortunately, due to Mrs. Weasley’s behavior, she has had to be silenced for this trial to occur. Her lawyer, Dominic Bertrand, will speak on her behalf.” Said lawyer stood and nodded at the members of the selected jury, “On the charges of assault, attempted murder, endangering the public, improper instigation of a duel, and three counts property damage, how does Mrs. Weasley plead?” 

“Madame Minister, the defendent moves to have the charges of assault and attempted murder to be dropped. As to the charges of endangering the public, property damage, and improper instigation of a duel, she pleads no contest. However, she would also like to file a counterclaim against Miss Hermione J. Granger for those same charges.” Bertrand said as he stood before the gathered officials. 

“On what grounds?” Charlotte asked with raised eyebrows, “According to several witness statements, and her own wand scan, Miss Granger never attacked with anything more than a stunner. She also instructed other bystanders to evacuate the immediate area, and suffered immensely at the hands of your client.” 

Dominic flushed, “Yes, but per the laws of 1856, Miss Granger is still a muggle-born witch, while Mrs. Weasley is a respected pureblood in the community. So any injury to her is irrelevant. We’re willing to drop the counterclaim if the charges of assault and attempted murder are dropped.” 

A gasp of outrage filled the courtroom, and Hermione wanted to hex Molly for the smug little smile she wore. The woman didn’t care a wit that she could have killed her. 

“Motion dismissed.” Madame Ballard hissed. Turning to the gathered wizengamot, she barked, “ I want that law retracted immediately. Mrs. Weasley will be tried as if she’d attacked another pureblood.” 

Glaring at Dominic she frowned deeper, “All charges will stand. A No Contest plea will be accepted on all accounts. The court calls Lord Neville Longbottom to the stand.” 

Betrand sat down with a huff and a pointed glare their way, but Hermione didn’t let it phase her. As the victim of the attack, she had no need for a lawyer, as the ministry protocols stated they would act in defense of her. All she would hopefully have to do that day was give her statement and then leave. She listened patiently as Neville detailed what happened that day, letting Harry’s steady presence at her back comfort her. 

Molly’s face grew redder with every word, and Hermione just stared at the woman she had once thought would be her mother in law. Finally, Neville was done and he’d been directed back to her seat. Charlotte took several notes, and nodded before turning her gaze on Hermione. 

“Do you have anything to add, Miss Granger? “ 

“No, Madam Ballard. Lord Longbottom was very concise in what happened.” She replied, folding her hands primly in her lap. 

“Very well. As Mrs. Weasley plead No Contest it is up to the court to decide her punishment. For the charges of property damage, endangering the public, and improper instigation of a duel, she will be levied fines of no less than fourteen thousand galleons, and no more than twenty thousand galleons.” Madam Ballard rubbed her temples with a sigh. 

“As for the charges of attempted murder and assault, Mrs. Weasley will be sentenced to fifteen years in Azkaban, with the possibility of Parole. At which time, Mrs. Weasley will be remanded to house arrest, and minimal use of her wand. Her family can set up payment arrangements with the Court Clerk. Case closed.” Charlotte said, banging her gavel and leaving the room. 

Hermione sat shell-shocked at the sentencing. It was much harsher than she would have expected. Ginny was crying into her brother Bill’s shirt, and Ron, Bill, and Percy were all glaring at her. Arthur simply looked sad. Hermione decided then and there she would pay the fines anonymously. There was no reason for Arthur to have to pay for his wife’s crime. 

Allowing Harry to take her home, she let out a sigh. Perhaps now she could live in peace with Harry. A part of her grew giddy at the thought. She could see herself spending the rest of her life with him, and hopefully he felt the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that everything I know about law comes from TV shows so excuse the inaccuracies. Also, all mistakes are my own, I think I might have one or two more chapters left, and one of those might be an epilogue.


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